DragonQuest Page 20

  Next, jugglers threw plates, balls, painted clubs, and knives in the air with dazzling skill.

  “I’m going to try that,” murmured Regidor.

  A row of dancers kicked their heels up behind a man singing. Then another man with a female assistant came out on the stage with dogs that performed amazing tricks.

  The noise in the room fell during the singing but gained strength during the animal act. Kale had to lean close to Dar to speak in his ear. “Toopka would love this.”

  “What?”

  I said, Toopka would love this.

  Dar nodded. “But soon we should get down to business.”

  Kale’s heart sank. She’d almost forgotten their mission for the night. Talking to the maids in the safety of the house they had rented did not frighten her. She asked probing questions without one thought of being challenged on her inquisitive nature.

  Once she had the young women thinking along the lines that might reveal an important fact, Kale often used her talent to gather any other information that never reached the maids’ lips. She found most of the relevant facts flitting through the girls’ minds. A cousin moved to town because labor was hard on a farm where the dragons refused to cooperate. No cloth had come from the factory town of Nordante because the dragons would no longer carry the market wares.

  But here in this rowdy crowd, Kale dreaded approaching strangers to strike up conversations. She knew she could not probe the minds of so many people with her talent. Such an endeavor would exhaust her.

  Regidor reached across the table to put his scaly hand over hers. “Don’t worry about dealing with this riffraff. I’ll take care of going from table to table. Probing minds doesn’t drain me the way it does you.”

  What can I do?

  “You keep an eye on the minor dragons.”

  Dar scooted his chair away from the table. “I’m going to join a card game in one of the back rooms.”

  “How do you know there are card games back there?” Kale asked.

  “My dear, there are always card games in places like this.”

  “Oh.”

  Dar winked and strolled to one side where a number of doors led out of the hall.

  Bardon stood. “I’ll order a drink at the bar.”

  Kale watched him weave through the tables to a long counter where men served standing patrons. She turned to find her meech friend, meaning to mindspeak with him. She found him alive with curiosity and determined to examine every species in the room. Kale laughed to herself as she observed his tactics.

  Regidor, with cowl covering his face and arms crossed and tucked into the opposite sleeve, strolled about the room, pausing at each table. But as he progressed around the room, his attitude changed. From the outside he appeared no different, but even with the distraction of this chaotic environment, Kale could feel agitation rising in Regidor.

  She didn’t like sitting by herself with only the minor dragons to keep her company. She moved to lean against the wall beside a thick supporting column and felt safe in its shadow.

  From this vantage point she noticed that none of the animals roamed the room.

  I’m not going to send the dragons out to spy. We’ll just view the room from here.

  Bardon held a thick mug in his hand. He put it to his mouth and tilted it. But Kale didn’t see him swallow. She smiled. Bardon wouldn’t be losing any of his sharpness because of a strong brew.

  One of the women who had danced on the stage sashayed up to Bardon and maneuvered herself into the small space next to him. She smiled at the lehman and said something.

  Kale stopped herself just before she used her talent to eavesdrop.

  I don’t want to know. I don’t want to hear what Bardon is thinking right now. And I certainly don’t want to be involved in his feelings.

  She turned away to watch Regidor. His lean figure, draped in the somber garb of a monk, stood in sharp contrast to the slovenly appearance of most of the men and women sitting around the tables. His slow, deliberate movements and the air of calm that surrounded him accentuated the incongruity.

  Kale noted that several men grew uncomfortable as the cleric stood near their tables. One o’rant poked the bisonbeck next to him and pointed at Regidor. Laughter rose from the table. Another bisonbeck sneered at the robed figure. One man rose to his feet as if to challenge her meech friend, but his companion urged him to sit down.

  Kale bit her lip. Regidor concentrated on the task at hand. He was oblivious to the changing mood of the crowd.

  Regidor, these people don’t like your roaming around the room. They distrust you.

  “What, Kale? Why did you interrupt me? These people are wallowing in disturbing lies.”

  The people, Regidor. They—

  “Hey, monk!” A grubby marione stood swaying before Regidor. “You got a reason to be here? You casting a spell on us or something?”

  “No,” said Regidor in his deep, resonant voice.

  Two more men joined the drunken marione, a tumanhofer and a urohm.

  The tumanhofer spoke. “No matter. We’re tired of you gawking at us. We’re throwing you out.”

  “And what if I choose not to leave?”

  No, Regidor, no! Just walk out.

  “Curse you! I’m the first mate on the Rondamoor. No one crosses me.”

  A murmur went through the crowd. One man spoke up.

  “No one beats him in a fight, either. You best go, monk-man.”

  Regidor pulled his leathery-skinned hand out of the sleeve. Slowly he raised one finger, its nail almost a claw, and pushed the hem of the cowl up. The hood inched upward, revealing a gleaming smile of many sharp white teeth.

  “I choose to stay.”

  34

  A BRAWL

  The room grew quiet. The band stopped playing. The customers ceased their babble. The workers behind the bar deftly removed glasses and bottles, shoving them under the counter.

  Regidor undid the sash around his robe, unfastened the top button, and let the garment fall to the floor. His tail slipped out of the belt at his waist. A plain white shirt covered his torso, but didn’t hide the bulging brawn of his back and neck. With his shoulders back and his head held high, he looked more than his seven feet in height. The black trousers he wore had been loose two weeks before. Now they stretched over his muscular thighs and calves. The upper portion of his shiny black boots molded around his legs with supple leather, but the soles and slight heels were hard enough to be lethal weapons.

  He tapped his toe on the wooden floor in a slow rhythmic beat that made the hair on Kale’s arms stand on end.

  “What are you, anyway?” growled the tumanhofer.

  “A meech,” answered Regidor, his voice a rumble in the quiet room.

  The urohm ran a hand through his greasy hair. “You mean, like a meech dragon?”

  “Indeed.”

  The urohm swallowed hard and looked down at his two chums.

  The marione bristled. “Ain’t no such thing as a meech dragon.”

  Regidor chortled.

  The marione bounced on the balls of his feet, his clenched fists shaking. “We can take him. There’s three of us.”

  The tumanhofer roared, lowered his head, and charged. His two buddies followed on his heels.

  Regidor leaned back on his tail, swept one foot up in an arc and struck the attacking man with a clean hit to the side of his head. The meech completed the arc, landing on the same foot. He brought his tail around to land a blow to the marione’s midsection.

  A dozen men joined the urohm in the fight. Kale grabbed a candlestick and entered the fray, swinging. Before she reached Regidor, the rest of the room erupted into a riot. A few picked up their drinks and made for the front door. Some struggled to pass through the belligerent crowd and leapt onto the stage, disappearing with the performers into the dark nether regions of the building.

  Metta and Gymn soared above the ruckus. Dibl flew to a crude chandelier made of six lanterns and an old wagon wh
eel. He perched on one of the spokes and called out with noises that sounded like cheers.

  Kale pressed through the slugfest, still trying to get to Regidor. She soon realized he didn’t need any assistance. No one landed a blow on the twirling, lashing warrior. He struck his opponents with fist, foot, and tail.

  Two brawling men fell into her, knocking her to the floor. She struggled out from under them and crawled beneath a table. From there, she watched the pandemonium as booted feet scuffled around her. A thud from above warned her someone had landed on the table. The wood creaked, and she scrambled out just before the table collapsed in an explosion of splinters.

  Kale jumped to her feet to avoid getting trampled. She dodged where she had to and shoved when she needed to in order to make her way to the bar. Bardon defended himself against two scruffy bisonbeck sailors. Kale jumped on the back of one as he raised his fist to smash the back of Bardon’s head. The bisonbeck bellowed and began to spin. She held on, thinking she would be catapulted like a rock in a sling. Bardon dispatched one assailant and turned his attention to the sailor carrying Kale on his back.

  Metta and Gymn swooped in, spitting green and purple saliva at the bisonbeck. The sticky goo stung when they projected it into his eyes. Unfortunately, he bobbed and gyrated wildly and made a poor target.

  Kale held on with one arm wrapped partway around the man’s thick neck. She dug the fingers of her other hand into the fleshy outer ear, twisting and pulling with all her strength.

  The bisonbeck yowled. He slowed his spin, making a ham-fisted grab for her hand. Bardon took the opportunity to smash the bigger man’s nose. The lehman landed another blow to the sputtering sailor’s windpipe. Kale dropped off his back and ran to Bardon’s side. The bisonbeck went down on his knees, coughing.

  We’ve got to get Regidor out of here.

  “We can’t get anywhere near him.”

  Not physically, but we can with our minds.

  “What do you suggest?”

  Work together. Both of us tell him to get out to the street.

  “And when we get to the street?”

  I’m not sure. Oh, where is Dar when we need him?

  “We can do this, Kale. You’re right. We’ll get Regidor out to the street and away from the fight.”

  Kale poured forth a stream of persuasive prattle.

  Regidor, we must get away from here. This is pointless. Stop fighting. Go out the door. Regidor, we must leave. No more fighting. Get out the door. The front door, Regidor, to the street. Leave this riffraff behind. Out. Out! Get out!

  Regidor eased toward the door.

  Kale and Bardon dodged swinging fists and sidestepped as many of the combatants as possible. Bardon cleared the way for her until they reached the swinging doors. The minor dragons came to roost on the two o’rants as they waited by the exit for the meech.

  Regidor burst through a knot of wrangling men and shot out the doors. Kale and Bardon followed, the dragons flying above them.

  On the street, men fought with knives.

  Oh no! This is worse.

  “Don’t worry. We’re getting out of here. Regidor, to High Street before Kale gets hurt.”

  Regidor landed a blow to one marione and kicked the knife out of another’s hand. The dragon caught a tumanhofer who had the ill judgment to tackle the meech from behind and tossed the short man onto the overhanging roof of a storefront porch.

  Regidor flashed a toothy grin at Bardon. “Let’s go!” he shouted.

  Three ruffians noticed their retreat and began hurling debris from the street. A bottle whizzed by Kale’s ear. A small stick bounced off her back. She feared for her minor dragons and wished she carried them safely inside the moonbeam cape.

  She heard a thud, a grunt, and saw Bardon stumble. Regidor scooped up the injured lehman and tossed him over one shoulder. They ran until the sounds of pursuit faded.

  Regidor ducked into an alley and put Bardon down. The unconscious lehman slumped against the wall.

  “You take care of him,” the meech ordered. “I’m going back to find Dar.”

  Panting from her long run, Kale dropped to her knees beside Bardon. The young man slid out of his half-sitting position and fell with his head in her lap. She put her hand on his chest and felt him breathing. “Regidor, those men are probably searching for you.”

  “They can’t hurt me.”

  “That isn’t the point. You’ll hurt them. There’s no sense in stirring up trouble.”

  “I’ll stay out of sight. When I reach The Horn, I’ll mindspeak to Dar. I want him to bring my robe.”

  “Now you need your robe?” She couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

  “Granny Noon gave it to me.”

  “Oh.”

  She watched Regidor slip into the street and dash for another shadowy spot that would hide him.

  Metta settled on her shoulder, Gymn on Bardon’s chest.

  Head wound? At the minor dragon’s direction, she felt the back of Bardon’s head. She found a lump, and her hand came away wet with blood.

  She struggled to reach inside her moonbeam cape. She sat in an awkward position with its folds trapped beneath her legs. As soon as she had the flap pulled back far enough, Kale asked Metta to enter a hollow and find something to use as a pad to hold against the wound.

  The purple dragon returned in short order with a wad of linen material. Kale pressed this against the gash with her fingers resting on his scalp. Gymn curled his body around her hand and Bardon’s wound.

  While the energy of healing moved in a circle between the little green dragon, the injured lehman, and herself, Kale touched Bardon’s cold and clammy chin. The dark shadows prevented her from seeing his color, and she wondered how pale he must be. She brushed his straight black hair from his face, and her hand lightly grazed his ear. The shape surprised her.

  Exploring with her fingers, she found the ear again and ran one finger around the curve of his lower ear, up the back, and to the top where a distinct point peaked and then tapered down to his temple.

  The tip was not as pronounced as Granny Noon’s, Leetu Bends’s, or Grand Ebeck’s, but it definitely did not round off at the top like an o’rant’s ear.

  She took a swift breath in and whispered as it came out. “Bardon, you’re a halfling.”

  35

  MISSING PERSON

  Five minutes passed. Then ten. Kale focused on the healing circle. Gymn relaxed as the bond between the three deepened. She felt the pain ease away from Bardon’s head. At the same time, a fresh current of life invigorated her spirit. This paradox of renewal while the act of healing drained her physical body brought a strange feeling of lazy peace. She could easily slip into a contented dream state.

  Metta sat on one of her shoulders, humming. Dibl sat on the other.

  Bardon’s eyes fluttered open. “Kale?”

  “You got hit on the head with a brick or something.”

  He sat up.

  Gymn rolled off Bardon’s head, bumped his shoulder, and slid down his back. When he hit the ground, he stood on wobbly legs, shook his head, and then cast a disgusted look at his patient.

  On Kale’s shoulder, Dibl did a little dance that ended with a flip. Kale giggled.

  Bardon quirked an eyebrow at her.

  “Gymn is put out because you dumped him after he healed you. To make it worse, he was almost asleep. Dibl, of course, thinks it’s all very funny.”

  Bardon twisted to look behind him. He picked up the disgruntled green dragon.

  “I’m sorry, Gymn. I didn’t realize you were napping on my head.” With one hand he reached up and felt for the wound. “All that’s left is drying blood.”

  Kale wrinkled her nose. “Sounds attractive.”

  Bardon looked around. “Where are Regidor and Dar?”

  The mist turned into a drizzle. She pulled her hood over her head. “Good question. I never saw Dar during the brawl. Regidor went back to get him and his monk robe.”

&n
bsp; “Why in the world did he start the fight?”

  “You think he started it?”

  “He didn’t have to challenge those drunks.” Bardon stretched his arms out, testing his muscles. “Regidor could have just walked away. But no, he throws off his disguise and starts beating the pulp out of them.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes.”

  Kale felt her muscles relax as she watched him flex his limbs to restore their vitality. She closed her mind to the incredible link between them and thought of something else.

  “Regidor is amazing. Have you ever seen anyone that quick?”

  “No. He seems to roll into his punches, fly toward an opponent. Oh, I give up! There’s no way to describe how he fights—like a circus acrobat and a dancer all in one.”

  Kale remembered Wizard Cam saying Bardon fought like a dancer. She remembered his ears and quickly shuttled her thoughts down a different line.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “I feel a bit lazy.”

  She laughed. The term lazy just didn’t fit Bardon.

  He stood and stretched. “Let’s walk back toward the waterfront and see if we can find Dar and Regidor. I have an uneasy notion.”

  “Is this notion based on your mindspeaking talent or reasoning?”

  “Reasoning. Don’t you think it odd that Dar didn’t appear during the fight? He’s never been shy to lend his sword to a just cause.”

  “But there was no just cause. It was a senseless riot.”

  Bardon raked his fingers through his hair, smoothing the sides over his ears.

  “Maybe this rain will wash the bloody mat out of my hair.”

  Again, she kept her thoughts to herself. Bardon had a reason why he didn’t reveal his dual heritage. She fought the urge to ask questions.

  “Kale, where’s my sword?”

  “I guess you dropped it in the street.”

  “Somebody probably picked it up, but let’s go back and see.”

  Kale got to her feet and shook the mud from the bottom of her moonbeam cape. The top now glistened with raindrops. Gymn landed on the front of the cape and darted inside. He apparently was tired and wanted a nap in his pocket-den.